


A Deep Breath

by Druidess



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:52:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1934595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Druidess/pseuds/Druidess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first fanfic, inspired by BC real quote (see notes at the end) English is not my native language. Opinions, critics, corrections, suggestions? They are most welcomed!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Deep Breath

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Respiro Hondo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011284) by [Druidess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Druidess/pseuds/Druidess)



I open my eyes. The sunlight and, most importantly, the memory of the previous night, lash me. An obnoxious little voice inside my head drills my brain  _"Oh, woman! How could you...?!_  Damn it! I close my eyes again till it hurts. If I looked for the meaning of "stupid" in the dictionary I would probably find a picture of my pathetic face as an example of such demoralizing term.

Though I want to slap myself until I bleed and stay in bed for the rest of my days, I decide to get up. As I go downstairs a question starts haunting me:  _What am I supposed to do now?_   I thank all gods humankind ever believed in that today is Sunday and I don’t have to go to work. Two years ago I made a promise to myself that my life would finally begin here, in London, the city I was always in love with and that nothing would take me away from that path. Ironically it seems nobody else but me the one who might have jeopardized everything by doing what I did last night. What-I-did-last-night. God! I can still smell his perfume...

Poppy, my cat, purrs and rubs against my leg while I prepare some coffee, I guess the only meal I will be able to have during the whole day. How did all this mess start? Well I would say that the very first second I kept my job without thinking it over. It was a fact that I was alone, trying to succeed in one of the greatest cities in the world and I had to make a living. Who can blame me? What was wrong about responding to a very discreet ad in the paper, going to an interview and being qualified enough to get the job? And this new and blossoming production company was desperately in need of an assistant to help them reviewing the hundreds of scripts that hadn't stopped arriving since they began in business. Their name? Sunny March. Hold on...Isn’t that the company recently started by...?  _Yes, it is._  But I was not aware of this tiny little detail until it was too late to quit, not without making a complete and ungrateful bitch of myself. No. I didn't do anything wrong.

 

 

“He will never show up” “He doesn't have the time” “That’s what his partners are for” “Keep worshiping him through the healthy distance Internet provides” I literally prayed every morning to have the courage to go to the office. I begged. “Please, do not show up” “My life would be officially ruined if you do” Please. And for 6 months my prayers seemed to work. I was safe. Then one of the scripts was chosen for a possible film adaptation. It was at that moment that one of Sunny March Ltd. co founders and man of my dreams, Benedict Cumberbatch, had to come to London for a meeting.

Dressed as if he was just our office boy, the first time he was in our presence it was everything I ever imagined and more. Like an enhanced photo, out of the thousands I browse online to torture my heart, we were introduced to this beautifully pale, tall man, with cheekbones as knives, Renaissance auburn curls and a voice that is true chocolate for the ears. Main effect? Women grinning like idiots all over the room. His eyes! They are this almost supernatural bluish green and they seem to see straight into your soul whenever he looks at you. As if his handsomeness was not enough, his humbleness completed the crime: he sincerely thanked us all for the hard work and asked us to consider him just as a "co-worker", overlooking the insignificant fact of being Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch, one of the most talented, famous and desired human beings of the freaking planet. I swear at that point I could only wonder:  _Is HE for real? Is all this for real?_  Funny to say that because I keep asking the latter, though the question has been slightly modified to: was _LAST NIGHT for real?_  It’s past noon and I’m back in bed trying to sleep. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do so for a lot of days.

After that glorious introduction, I didn't see him around the office anymore. I must admit that got me a little bit sad but then I said to myself  _Well, that didn't turn out so bad for you after all, uh? You finally met him and yet you kept your sanity_ It seemed upcoming days were going to be uneventful. Until last Wednesday morning when I opened my Inbox and all my mental-safety illusions were shattered by the straightest, shortest and simplest of the corporate e-mails:

**“Hi!**

**Great news! The script "DECOY" has been chosen to become our first feature film! Since you are such a vital piece to our company and specially to this exciting project, we would like you to join us for a casual cocktail in celebration of this happy occasion next Saturday, 9 pm at The May Fair Hotel (Stratton Street, Mayfair, London, W1J 8LT)**

**Hope you can make it!"**

**Sunny March Ltd**

You would never guess who had recommended the script for the big film project and couldn't escape such a notorious reception...  _Oh, Lord._

 

 

My attempts to avoid Benedict may seem illogical to anybody else but for me they had to do with basic survival instinct; it was me trying to be realistic and letting my head to be in charge of my life for the very first time. Why didn’t I want to interact with the man of my dreams? Well, precisely because of that: he dwelled in my dreams and he could only be mine there. In my own romantic fantasy world, we were unconditionally together with no cruel reality daring to get in our way. Excuse me? Did you all think that in real life a man like him would magically fall in love with someone like me just by being around? Me neither I know it sounds idiotic but for me it was "Love me or stay away from me, Mr Cumberbatch"

I had to attend that cocktail; it was related to my job responsibilities... What a lame justification to see him again! Believe it or not, I thought of every possible excuse a person can come up with to avoid going to a party. Even that very night I considered the idea of tripping over and faking a twisted ankle while I was arriving The May Fair but I've never been that good at acting anyway. So there I was, supposed to enjoy a wonderful evening and yet wishing to be invisible but at the same time yearning to see Benedict once more. Well, he didn't keep me waiting much longer. Suddenly I saw this flawless man, dressed to kill, caught into a swirl of people, laughing, conversing, being as unpretentious as one cannot imagine a movie star could be. In other words, being himself. I sighed. But... Hey! Witnessing that whole situation gave me a great idea! Since he was the very center of the party I would be able to keep an eye on him to maintain the distance “ _You stay away from him, you survive the night, girl!”_   So my main strategy consisted in going completely unnoticed, lurking the edges of the room, not eating or drinking, going to the loo every time I saw him nearby. Let’s say that my plan was being executed brilliantly and worked for a couple of hours. Until my sweet tooth got me distracted and made this crazy night started for me.

 

 

Poppy is gone, probably in search of a much cheerier atmosphere than the one is contaminating my bedroom right now. London traffic resounds through my window and it’s like a strange lullaby that almost makes me fall asleep for a moment. Then the knot in my stomach wakes me up again, tyrannically. Ugh. Why the hell wasn't I this sick last night? I could have excused myself and got the hell out of there! Why did I have the stupendous idea of approaching the sweet table? It was at the very instant I picked up a cherry cupcake that the most recognizable voice in the entire galaxy addressed me. Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch was beside me, talking to me, looking at me, SMILING at me:

-  _Hi! They told me you were in charge of reading the script...?_

The whole room turned hazy, I was not able to recognize the faces around me, I couldn't hear the music anymore, I was about to drop the cherry cupcake...  _"This is it"_  I was preparing to face the consequences of such an embarrassing behavior that would probably lead me to therapy for the rest of my natural life when I suddenly felt like never before. Different in a way I still cannot quite define except like something taking over me and making me act like somebody else:

-  _Yes, I was_. I firmly replied. -  _It’s such an honor to meet you Mr. Cumberbatch!_

-  _Ohh pleeeaase!_   _Call me Ben_... He said, lighting up the whole room with that sweet and skewed smile of his...

Had I been this articulate, interesting and witty in a conversation with a man before in my life? Not that I could remember. And considering he was not just  _another man_  made it all even weirder. What had got into me? We chatted as if we were a pair of old friends who hadn't seen each other in decades; probably half an hour discussing food, books, theater, music, movies. I knew my nerd curse was going to be rewarding someday! Oh... And the best part... How exciting it was having every single woman at that party almost burning me with their glances! Made me feel like a Greek goddess, a Marvel hero, a Victoria’s Secret supermodel, all of them combined in me! I guess that thrill gave me the nerve to ask things I always wanted to know about him, some of them probably not the cheekiest of the Hollywood reporters would have dared to inquire. The fangirl, exposed. Being the way he is it was not a surprise he answered kindly to each one of my questions, giving that look that makes you believe even the most trivial thing coming out of your mouth is some sort of universal mystery finally unveiled to him. In fact, there were moments when I don't know if it was an optical illusion or my imagination running wild, but I could have sworn I saw a spark in his eyes, as if he was seeing someone far more interesting than me.  _Way much more attractive than me_. Alcohol talking? Maybe. Anyway, I was unable to find it out because all of the sudden a smug and skinny blonde came out of nowhere and take Benedict away under the pretext of introducing him to some high profile American director who happened to show up at the cocktail.

-  _Sorry...!_   _It was a real pleasure... talking to you_... He said, unsmiling, while being dragged away from me.

I noticed his eyes again. Call me crazy but I know his eyes by heart and they were definitely trying to tell me something I couldn't quite figure out at that moment. So thinking my unique moment with this unique man was gone I could only stand there, frozen by the sweet table, with an untouched cherry cupcake in my hand, battling with all my strengths against a mad desire to howl.

 

 

My life was never a bed of roses and I can say my “tear fighting” skills are very well trained. Well, last night they failed me. After Benedict walked away I literally ran to the bathroom and locked myself in. I needed as much privacy as I could get to cry for that was the moment I had feared the most from the very beginning: having him for myself one minute and the next one watching him go. It was such an overwhelming sorrow that I just knew it  _“I’m fucking IN LOVE with this guy”_ It was a terrifying notion but I had to come to a final acceptance of it. All this time I hoped this whole obsession of following his life, knowing all about his career, piling pictures of him in my computer and mobile was just a phase I was going through, maybe to indulge myself being the teenager I had never had the chance to be. But meeting him helped me realize this fondness was more than a whim of a belated little girl but the most certain of feelings: love. Sadly he had escaped my dreams simply for real life rubbed me in the face that he was not to be for me. My weeping kept louder and louder, coming from the guts and for a moment I really believed I was going to pass out. Now that I think about it I’m pretty sure if anybody would have heard me crying that way they would have called security. Thank God nobody was around.

After a while and considering that at some point any fellow ladies would want to use the service I decided to come out and face the ugly truth  _See? You should have stayed at home, being happy in Dreamland, you idiot!_ I looked myself in the mirror and tried to fix my make up as best as I could and then I walked out to the hallway. Even though that section of the hotel was rather isolated I started thinking of a range of possible explanations for my dreadful condition since, of course, you always have to bump into someone when your eyes are red and swollen after crying over an impossible love, right? I was just passing in front of the main stairs and seriously considering the idea of sneaking out through the kitchen door when, out of the blue, I felt some soft and slender fingers gently grabbing my wrist...

 

 

Goodness. I must admit there were three seconds of pure fear until I could turn around and saw the most familiar shape of a back and a neck I could ever expect. Fear became surprise, then doubt and finally it turned into such amazement that I found myself in some kind of a hypnotic condition. I mean, being taken upstairs by someone who didn't ask for my permission, and yet not being able to say a word to protest? As we kept going, everything felt like a bizarre movie: a long take in slow motion that at the same time went really fast. Stairs, 1st floor, 2nd floor, 3rd floor, hallway, door. In a blink of an eye I was at the threshold of that dimly lit hotel suite, looking at the figure of the man who led me there, opened the door and was now quietly contemplating me from across the room.  

 _\- Would you come in?_  

I agreed and stepped inside as he was coming towards me. He lifted an arm over my shoulder and gave the door a little push to shut it. Now he was so close to me I could even notice the pulse of his neck, perceive every single scent on him... I was petrified, unable to raise my head to look at his face though I was absolutely aware of his identity. For his part, he stayed still in front of me, silent. My heartbeat started accelerating; I was perfectly conscious of what was going on in that suite and most importantly, what was going to happen next. The question was, what was I going to do about it? To be honest, there was a moment I considered slapping him and running away, not without first telling him how humiliated I felt... But those ideas went literally to hell the second this man lifted my head by the chin and started  _kissing_  me in the sweetest manner. When he paused I finally had the guts to look at him in the eyes, those almost supernatural bluish green eyes that seem to see straight into your soul. Even beyond. Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch began to kiss me again, deliciously wilder this time and my brain just shut down.  _What-the-fuck_. Those lips so long coveted, that beautiful heart shaped mouth that until a few hours ago I could only fantasize about, was now doing wonders on my mouth. Soon his hands joined in and slowly started unzipping the dull dress I had to borrow from my next door neighbor until it fell to the floor. Then he took a look at my body with such a naughty smile on his face that I can say he instantly cured me of my pathological shyness about nudity. He came nearer again, put his hands on my back and ran his gigantic fingers all over it, as if he was drawing on beach sand and then slid them to the front until he reached my nipples. A third kiss followed and this time it was his tongue the one doing wonders inside my mouth. Oh, yes, I definitely went into this unbelievable game. I was never so quick to unbutton a man’s shirt! Benedict was shirtless. I delighted in his chest, running my hands across his milky skin, observing every mole and freckle as if I was discovering a new planet on each of them, sliding my lips through every single curve of his glorious muscles, sensing his respiration rising as my touch went cheekily down to his lower belly. But before I could go any further and get rid of that inconvenient belt and the rest of clothing below it, he interrupted me to lift me in his arms and carry me to the main bedroom; I had barely noticed that we were still at the suite entrance. As being hold in his ripped arms I was unable to get my hands off of him, tangling my fingers in his hair, caressing his eternal neck to end up on his chest where I could sense his heart at an absurd rate. How he seemed to enjoy my disbelief look! The bedroom was warmer than the rest of the suite and there was a stimulating citric scent in the air; you could easily spot the London full moon through the window. Ben laid me on the bed and then crawled over me as he continued kissing me, not just in the mouth but all over my body now. The sensation was just mind-blowing. He was exploring every inch of my anatomy with his lips as if he was somehow trying to define the taste of my skin. I was afire. I pushed him away, made him lay on his back and, not ashamed to admit, I almost ripped off what remained of his clothes. I couldn't believe the beauty of his naked body and most of all, the magnificence of his sex nearly ready for me. Now it was my turn to grin. I began licking his thighs, his hips, merciless excluding THAT area on purpose. It was when I heard Benedict moaning. God. I didn't think it was possible for his voice to be sexier than his normal speaking and there I had him, groaning of pleasure, craving me and making my arousal closely hitting its peak. I stopped sharply and stared at him, kneeling at the end of the bed. He looked at me with hooded eyes, demanding an explanation, of course. Smirking, I playfully took off my last bastion of modesty, my panties, and tossed them across the bedroom and then stayed still, waiting for his reaction. His inquisitive face turned into a mischievous one; he pounced on me, grabbed me from the waist and made me tumble over the bed. Then he placed himself on top of me and caressed the inner side of one of my thighs with fingers that sluggishly went into my hottest place. It was time.

 _\- Uuhn, please..._   I begged

Ben smiled seductively one last time before he shoved into me. If Heaven can be described, I’m sure it must be pretty close to what I experienced last night. I desperately wanted to print in my memory every one of his movements, every one of his gestures, every one of his noises. Having him inside made me believe I was the only woman in the whole fucking planet. His thrusts began slowly and as he was gently restraining my hands against the pillow he looked me in the eye at all time. The pleasure was indescribable. I repeatedly tried to reach his lips and it was so pleasantly cruel because he dodged me every time and my attempts only caused him to “punish” me with more intense, deeper pushes; the cheeky bastard was amused by this to the point of laughing at my whimpers of satisfaction. Yes, I was lucky enough to also hear him laughing. The veins from his arms were bulging more than ever due to his fabulous performance and soon I could see how his chest turned shiny with sweat. There were moments when I closed my eyes and I completely lost myself in him... Is that even possible? I know it is, now. When my body began to show him I was near to ecstasy, Ben increased his motion. My eyes were shut and I moaned his name.

-  _Look at me_  – He gasped.

I obeyed. He released me from his grasp and shoved three more times, swiftly, before I reached orgasm, in tears. He kept thrusting in and out for a couple of seconds until his whole body shivered when he got his own climax. I swear, as long as I live, I won’t ever forget the sound of his voice when he came inside of me and the way he kissed me afterwards. We were both happily breathless and my tears mixed with his sweat when I laid my head over his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowing down until I fell asleep.

 

 

The sun is going down and Poppy has just returned from her neighborhood adventures. If she could express it she’d most likely be outraged by my condition.  _Still in bed? What’s wrong with you?_  Call it a mystic nonsense but sometimes I’m pretty convinced my mom watches me from above through my cat. It could also be my way of dealing with the sorrow of missing her so much and today I miss my mother more than ever. For starters she wouldn't have approved the way I sneaked out of the May Fair hotel and to honor family tradition, I would have fiercely contradicted her.  _What did you want me to do, mom?! Waking him up? Leaving him a note? “Dear Ben, so honored you chose me as your shag tonight (very satisfactory BTW) but as you may imagine I have to carry on with my life. Well, you know where to find me so... Any time! XOXO_ ” The thought of such note makes me giggle.

SEX, that’s all it had been... Not that I didn't enjoy it but as a grown up woman I have to accept the situation without trying to disguise it so it fulfills my fairy tale expectations. Just to be clear: for me Benedict is indeed that proper gentleman everybody knows and loves but he is human after all, a man who saw a chance of a one night stand in me and simply took it. I could even ponder this while I was collecting my clothes as quietly as I could to avoid waking him up and to keep watching him sleep with that peaceful expression in his amazing face; not being able to kiss him one last time was, by far, the hardest thing I've done and, I’m sure, I will ever do in my life. It was close to 3 am when I finished getting dressed, took a bitter look at that place where my wildest dream had come true and tiptoed out of there. I’m still deciding if I felt more like a thief or a slut while I was going downstairs, looking over my shoulder every two seconds to slip away, as I initially planned, through one of the back doors of the May Fair Hotel to finally get a taxi in the deserted city.

I’m taking a shower though I'm reluctant to remove whatever is left of his DNA from my skin. In fact, I could easily renounce to personal hygiene forever if they told me I could keep his scent all over me for the rest of my days. The warm water runs through my body and I can almost see Ben through the steam. The very thought of him being with me here in the shower, our naked bodies together again, Ben touching me the way he did last night under the water... Ummm... Now I’m playing with myself shamelessly as my only relief for not being able to confess my achievement to the world. It is my silent victory call: I MADE LOVE TO BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH!! Cause for me, it was for love, Ben...

Now what? My mobile is ringing and for some reason my heart jumps when I hear that text coming in. Is it that somebody found out? Probably some hotel employee saw us and told the smug and skinny blonde, who was most likely panicking for not finding Ben. Then she may have given my description to my boss and ... There... I may not need to go to work tomorrow after all. Anyway I rush to check the message on my phone and it is surprising to see an unknown number on the screen. I read it:

**Hi! sad u didnt say goodbye last nite :( lets start all over again... fancy a drink? BC**

I take a deep breath. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> "Hitler. I’d tell him his paintings were great and to stay off the politics and get laid. Alive… The mother of my children and I’d ask them to take a deep breath and if they fancied a drink."  
> \- Benedict Cumberbatch, when asked "If you could meet anyone in the world dead or alive who would it be and what would you say to them?"


End file.
